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From Trash To Treasure: Masked Heiress Novel Cover

From Trash To Treasure: Masked Heiress

I was the invisible failure of the Goff family, hiding my medical genius behind a report card full of Fs and a slumped posture. One rainy night, I found a man bleeding out in a dark alley behind the school gymnasium, a knife protruding from his gut. To keep the police from digging into my secrets, I dragged the dying stranger to my bedroom and stitched him up using a hidden surgical kit. I thought I was being careful, but my cousin Cleora caught a glimpse of the blood and immediately alerted my fiancé's wealthy family. By morning, my world collapsed as my future in-laws stormed the manor, throwing an annulment agreement at my feet. They called me a "loose woman" and "million-dollar trash," while my own housekeeper gleefully testified against me. At school, the word "SLUT" was spray-painted across my locker in jagged red letters, and the boy I was supposed to marry looked at me with nothing but cold revulsion. I didn't understand why they were so eager to destroy me before even asking for the truth. I was the one who had spent years protecting this family's reputation, yet they were throwing me to the wolves over a single misunderstanding. I felt a surge of cold fury as I realized my loyalty had been met with nothing but betrayal. Everything changed when the "dying" stranger finally walked down the stairs, shirtless and bandaged, revealing himself as Braylon Lancaster, the most powerful man in the city. He didn't just defend me; he froze my fiancé's entire family fortune with a single phone call. As my in-laws fled in terror, a courier arrived with a five-carat pink diamond from the head of the city's most dangerous crime syndicate. The note read: "The debt is acknowledged." Suddenly, I wasn't just a failure anymore-I was the most sought-after woman in the underworld.
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Chapter 7

Jerome Miles stared at the cashier's check from a private Swiss bank. The number of zeros made his head spin. It was more than his company's entire quarterly profit.

He snatched up the signed papers and stormed out. Felicity and Jared followed, heads bowed. Cleora lingered for a second, staring at Braylon with hungry eyes, before turning away.

The heavy front door clicked shut.

Braylon groaned. His knees buckled.

He collapsed forward. Ivy caught him, her small frame straining under his weight.

"He is collapsing!" Joette screamed.

Douglas and Clay rushed forward, hands outstretched.

"Don't touch him!" Ivy barked. Her voice was commanding. "His ribs are unstable. If you grab him wrong, you will puncture a lung."

The bodyguards froze. They looked at the teenage girl in the baggy hoodie.

"Carry him. Horizontal. Careful," Ivy ordered.

They carried him back up to the bedroom.

Joette hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands.

"Ivy, who is he? Is he... your boyfriend?"

"No," Ivy said, checking Braylon's pulse. "Just a patient. Go rest, Mom."

Inside the room, they laid him on the bed. Braylon's face was gray, but his eyes were open and alert.

Douglas stood by the bed.

"Sir, the family thinks you are dead. The stock dropped fifteen percent this morning."

"Good," Braylon whispered. "Let them panic."

He looked at Ivy. His gaze dropped to his chest, then back to her face.

"Doctor, I feel dirty. I need a bath."

Ivy was mixing a saline solution. She didn't turn around.

"No. Wounds can't get wet."

"Sponge bath then," Braylon said. A smirk tugged at his lips. "My men are clumsy. You do it."

Douglas and Clay looked at the floor, studying the carpet pattern intently.

Ivy turned. She held a large syringe in her hand.

"One more word and I sedate you for twenty-four hours."

Braylon closed his mouth. But his eyes were laughing.

Ivy sighed. She threw a basin and a towel at Douglas.

"You do it. If he complains, gag him."

She walked out of the room to get more gauze.

Douglas looked at his boss. "Boss, is she... reliable?"

Braylon touched the bandage on his chest. His expression turned serious.

"Investigate her. Everything. From birth to now."

Clay frowned. "But she saved you."

"Exactly," Braylon said. "A high school girl with surgeon skills and Syndicate tokens. She is an anomaly."

In the hallway, Ivy saw Mrs. Pringle pretending to dust a vase.

Ivy stopped. She walked up to the housekeeper. She stepped into her personal space.

"I know you texted Cleora," Ivy said. Her voice was low, barely a whisper.

Pringle paled. "I don't know what you mean."

Ivy stared at her. Her eyes were cold, devoid of any teenage awkwardness.

"Next time, you won't just be fired. You will disappear."

Pringle dropped her duster. She took a step back, genuine fear in her eyes.

Ivy walked past her into her room and shut the door.

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